


Vis-à-vis

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Late-Night Thoughts, Loneliness, M/M, Multiverse Theory, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: They're always in the same place, even with two thousand miles between them.





	Vis-à-vis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missingparentheses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingparentheses/gifts).



> Written for Tropetastic Tuesday #9: "Mutual pining - bonus challenge: write it partly from Rhett’s perspective and partly from Link’s".
> 
> But also written for something, or rather, someone else...

The corridor is blessedly quiet when Link finally finds his room. He shakes his head, attempting to rid himself of the incessant drone of New York City traffic, before waving his keycard at the sensor on the wall. A sharp beep makes him jump, and the door grants him entry.

Even in the darkness, he can see that it’s quaint, the walls closed in just a little tighter than he’s used to. The air smells stale but thankfully tobacco-free, and the bright lights of a city that is always awake appear hidden behind thick curtains. Dragging his suitcase in behind him, he passes the bathroom immediately to his right, notes the ironing board hung up inside the wardrobe, and eventually finds the lone double bed at the end of his walk.

He’s on this trip alone, a rare occurrence, no family or best friend to accompany him. There was no need to drag anyone else across the country with him – they all had commitments back at home, and it would only take the weekend for Link to accomplish what he needed to do here. He arrived early this morning to make it in time for the first meeting with the second scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. They both held promising outcomes for their business, despite the inconvenience of their location, and were informal enough that they each required only one of the duo to attend.

 _“Locke’s got a meet,”_ Rhett had claimed, setting a hand to Link’s shoulder where he sat at his desk looking at flights. _“Besides, I got the last one. It’s your turn, brother.”_

Looking around, there’s a part of Link that wishes he’d just gone all out and booked one of the top-end master suites. After all, this was booked with company money, not his own. He would’ve gotten room service that way, a wake-up call with breakfast wheeled in on a cart, a mini-bar in the corner filled with snacks he wouldn’t have to pay for, among other things. But his left brain won out in the end, making the excellent point that company money _is_ his money. He made sure Rhett had already left the room before he clicked on one of the hotel’s more basic offerings.

The first thing to be done once his luggage is safely deposited by the foot of the bed is to check the bathroom. A flick of the light switch reveals nothing of worry: no soiled towels, lack of toilet paper, or a rogue hair in sight. It’s surprisingly clear, to the point that Link can practically hear Rhett’s smug voice yell out at him.

 _“I told you, man!”_ he would say if he were here, amusement annoyingly evident in his tone. _“Quit your stressin’ before you pop a vein.”_

With that out of the way, next on the checklist is the air vent, which is usually somewhat hidden and takes a good minute or two to find. However, as soon as Link leaves the bathroom, he spots it sitting just above the meagre writing desk against the wall. He can already see that it’s far enough from the bed to have little if any effect on his throat while he sleeps. He takes the moment anyway to make sure, finding the remote by the bed and turning on the heat to test how it feels once he’s splayed out on the mattress.

But exhaustion settles in as soon as he hits the sheets. He decides it’s fine the way it is.

It’s not often that Link has to travel by himself, let alone spend whole hours of daylight left to his own devices. He’s used to a never-ending list of tasks left to do, to idle chatter at the very least, talk of family obligations and scheduling conflicts usually following him wherever he goes. There are no children here, however, to keep him busy; no assistants to bark reminders from the doorway; no Christy to tell him about her whirlwind day; no Rhett to talk his ear off about whatever newfangled article he’s found this time.

With the warm air from the heater washing over him, Link closes his eyes to dream of California. It’s Saturday night, his time of the week to spend solely with family and his other friends. But travel always throws him for a loop, even in a city only three hours off from the one he knows. It feels like a Friday here, and on Friday, it’s usually Rhett that drives them both toward home after work.

It’s a warm fresh breeze instead of recycled hotel air that he feels on his cheeks. In his head, it’s tinged with the scent of oceanwater because Rhett insists on taking the scenic route at the end of the week, a regular practice – according to him – in being thankful for their blessings.

 _“We made it, Link, we_ live _in LA,”_ he would say, his eyes trained on the road ahead. _“Can you believe it? Did ya ever think we’d get here?”_

Link would shake his head in response, laughing when Rhett begins to belt along to Merle blasting through their speakers. They’d ignore the looks they earn from the other drivers, blissfully unapologetic because this is what they do, what they’ve always done since they found each other all those years ago.

But nowadays there’s a little more to it. Now Rhett’s hand finds its place on Link’s knee and stays there, and Link has to calm his racing heartbeat, ignoring the full-body flush blossoming under his shirt, radiating from the single point of contact on his leg.

They’ll slow at a stop light, just enough time for Rhett to look over at him, cheeks pink when he sends a wide smile his way.

 _“Did you think we’d ever get here?”_ he’ll hear Rhett say again, a murmur over Merle’s crooning lyrics, and he’ll know he means something else this time.

With conscious effort, Link opens his eyes again to an empty room. His phone tells him it’s one in the morning here. It’s just early enough. He scrolls until he finds what he’s looking for and begins to type.

 

 

 

The sudden shrillness of his message tone startles Rhett out of his accidental nap. It takes a moment for him to recollect his surroundings, eventually realising he’s out in his backyard, a glass of half-drunk wine by his side to unwind after a long day of driving the boys around. Jessie had brought home some new sun-lounges late last week, and after having no time since to test them, he’s taking his chance now. They were a good purchase, being comfortable enough for him to drift off to the orchestra of chirping crickets hidden in his garden beds.

Lifting his head, he finds a bundle of white fur at his feet still blissfully asleep, Barbara curled up and snoring gently. He tugs at his blanket to cover her little body as well before reaching for his phone on the table beside him.

 _1 new message_ , the screen tells him, a text from _Link :)_.

There’s an entire country between them right now, a few time-zones keeping them apart. It isn’t the first time this has happened – they’ve been even further apart before for much longer than a weekend – but with the stillness of this particular Saturday night honing in on him, an irregularity in Rhett’s social calendar, the separation between them feels especially heightened tonight.

He presses at the notification.

> **_L:_ ** _Saw an empty can of baked beans rolling around on the street today. Thought of you._

It gets a chuckle out of him, and he pictures Link wherever he is, probably out at a bar letting off some steam. He may as well – he’s away from home, away from the stress and anxiety he gets from his life here.

New York suits Link – Rhett’s always thought so – with that high-strung, high-energy kind of air that Link’s always had to him. He wears the noise and the mayhem of the city well, lets it energise him before returning it tenfold. Meanwhile, Rhett always leaves the place feeling little slower and decrepit by comparison.

> **_R:_ ** _How can it be a can of beans if it’s empty?_
> 
> **_L:_ ** _Smartass._

Their relationship has always been something different. They’re chalk and cheese, he and Link, polar opposites that somehow found themselves increasingly in orbit of the other. He knows what they must look like, what they _do_ look like, according to endless comments from fans and offhanded assumptions to his face. He too would find it intriguing, the idea of two people no more alike than a pair of strangers, choosing to spend their lives together entwined in a way nobody else has really understood.

Not that he can really explain it himself. What are the chances he would find his _soulmate_ – the word makes him cringe, but it fits them best – at the tender age of five and _somehow_ agree to spend the remainder of his life alongside him, bound together not by law or custom, but through a piece of paper and a swipe of their blood?

A sliver next to nothing, he knows. _Those_ are the chances. Yet here he is, living it out.

> **_L:_ ** _Okay, l_ _et me try that again._

Every time he thinks about it, the existence of alternate realities, he convinces himself of its credibility a little more. Because he knows he’s incredibly lucky to have travelled the roads in his past that led him here, knows that there have been many turn-offs along the way that could’ve taken him anywhere else.

Which means there must be someplace else in a neighbouring universe where Rhett McLaughlin is sitting in his backyard, _his_ Barbara curled up at his feet, maybe also looking up at a night sky that should be awash with glittering stars instead of a polluted void, with _no_ messages on his phone from a person named Link or even Charles.

That Rhett McLaughlin isn’t aching for Monday morning, for picking his _business partner_ up from his house, due to the added distance between them over the weekend making him _feel_ a little more than usual. That Rhett McLaughlin isn’t considering a call to said business partner’s wife in the morning, telling her not to worry about driving to the airport, because he’ll do it, he’s more than happy to take the time, he’s got it.

That Rhett definitely wouldn’t be imagining Link sitting in the sun-lounge next to him, head lolled back and looking up at the stars with him. He wouldn’t be able to see the full moonlight catching brilliantly in the bright blue of Link’s irises, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he clears his throat to speak. There won’t be some light quip about Rhett getting him the star instead of the horse, and Rhett retaliating with a jab to the ribs that somehow ends up with him looming over Link, faces only inches apart, the taste of Link’s oddly sweet breath on his tongue.

That Rhett McLaughlin wouldn’t be doing any of those things because, in that universe, Link Neal isn’t his.

> **_L:_ ** _I miss you._

Rhett reaches for his glass and drains the leftover wine sloshing at the bottom. He scoops Barbara up in his arms, and she whimpers at him still swaddled in his blanket. He goes back inside, leaves his glass in the sink to be washed in the morning, and safely deposits his puppy onto the couch for the night before dropping a kiss to her furry head.

On his way to bed, he pauses at the foot of the stairs, taking in the calm of a sleeping household. It won’t be long until it’s back to normal, back to being colourful and noisy and full. For the last time today, he takes his phone out of his pocket.

> **_R:_** _Miss you too._

**Author's Note:**

> _For my gal[missingparentheses](http://missingparentheses.tumblr.com/)~!_
> 
> You're kind, thoughtful and hilarious, and you deserve all the warm and fuzzies in the world! Thank you for the unrelenting support and friendship that you've given me all the way across even more time-zones.
> 
> Hope you like your present! <3


End file.
